


Curtains Falling

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Series: Daughter of Gotham [11]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a little bird who saw his world fall down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curtains Falling

Ashlea was still shaking as she went to the police station, hoping Jim Gordon was still in, that he could help her.

_The snap of the cable echoed, and the collective gasp that preceded the silence did nothing but punctuate the sound as the sand flowed blood red._

That boy, the one who had been up on the other platform, waiting for his next trick, haunted her. She could not imagine leaving him to the system. She could not have seen his face at the distance, but she knew the look. She knew there had been horror, denial, anguish… his face would have been a mirror to her own, those several years ago.

She made her way in, used her charm and wit to get to the Commissioner's office… she was very thankful for that shift in the politics of Gotham… and tapped lightly.

"Come in," the voice within called. Ashlea slipped in, still dressed in the one of a kind dress she'd bought just for the charity event at the Circus. She knew her face was pale, that her eye make-up was slightly smudged. None of that mattered, except in all the ways that it might sway Jim.

"Jim, I hate to do this, but I am worried about that boy."

"You were there, weren't you, Miss Wayne?"

"Ashlea," she gently insisted. "I would like to have your support to get the boy from Social Services into my home as a temporary guardian for him. I feel like… like I can help him, more than they will. We're all strangers to him, but at least I know."

Jim viewed her shrewdly. "Ashlea, you actually are a godsend right now. The boy needs to be in protective custody, but I was scratching my head over where to put him. I'm here too much to take him home with me; I can't inflict him on my own teenager."

Ashlea smiled, but it was small and sad. "Barbara is probably at that difficult stage, isn't she?"

"Can't make up her mind if she wants to be a politician or a librarian," Jim agreed. "And not needing to make up her mind for some years!" He cleared his throat. "Young Richard Grayson is a witness, and there is a chance he'd be at risk. Are you certain you are willing to take that on?"

Ashlea didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Jim came out from behind his desk. "Come on, and I'll introduce you to him."

* * *

Dick looked up as the door opened, having given up on the idea of sneaking out through the secured window. He just wanted to go home… only home wasn't safe. Tears welled up again as he saw that horrible moment, backed by guilt over not telling his parents what he'd heard with Pop Haly.

He saw a very pretty mark… rich woman, somewhere in her twenties, he guessed. With her was the gruff man named Gordon, who was apparently the big wig here in this town when it came to the local cops.

"Richard, this is Ashlea Wayne, and she's going to lend us a place for you to stay," Gordon told him.

Dick blinked, staring at the woman. Why would a pretty, rich dame like her -- she looked like she was wearing more than a month's worth of tickets -- want to do something like that? "My name's Dick," he said for the dozenth time, looking from one of them to the other. "And whaddya mean, 'lend a place'?" 

"You need to have a safe place to stay until we wrap up this investigation, son," Jim told him. "Miss Wayne is willing to take you with her."

 

"Willing is not the right word, Dick," Ashlea told him, breaking in before Jim jangled the boy worse than he was. "It would be nice if you'd let me take you home, while the police work the case."

Home. 

He snorted at her, trying to hide just how much that word hurt, and watched her with his jaw up. "...why?" he asked, rather than snap the 'you can't'. She meant her home, anyway. Wherever a rich mark like her lived. 

"Because I remember the night I sat in a police cruiser," Ashlea said seriously, her eyes meeting the boy's. "For the same reason."

Jim stood back, letting the woman handle this… and he was thankful that for all of Wayne's glitz and glamour that there was a heart in there for others that suffered.

Dick stared at her for a long moment, trying to decide if he thought she was actually as serious as she sounded. 'Yes', something told him, and he nodded slowly, rather than say the 'You?' that wanted to spill off his tongue. Ma always said if you couldn't be nice, just don't say anything at all, and he hated seeing that unhappy look on her face. 

(Glazed eyes. Head turned to the side all wrong, loose like -- ) 

He scrubbed at his face, trying to force the image in his head away, trying to pay attention to the woman standing there in front of him. He focused on her, through his spread hand, and nodded. "I -- yeah. Okay." He looked up at Gordon, then. "Does Pop know?" 

"I'll make certain of it," Jim told the boy. "I have to go back out there tonight before I head home even."

Ashlea looked at the Commissioner. "Paperwork…"

"Had you sign the one release on the way here; I'd prefer to keep as little red tape on this as I can, just in case someone's paying attention internally," Jim said with a gruff anger that he had not purged all the corruption yet.

"Of course," Ashlea answered that before gesturing for the boy to join her. "C'mon, Dick. My car's right outside."

He looked at her again, wondering who she was, other than rich, that she could just... leave a car on a street this densely urban, this congested, and be absolutely sure it would be there when she got back to it, but he nodded and got up to follow her out. 

As soon as they stepped out into view of the street, an elderly man stepped out of the big, expensive looking black car in the metered parking spot. This man went to wait at one of the rear doors, opening it as Ashlea go close.

"Miss Wayne," he said warmly, looking down at the younger man.

"Alfred, this is Dick Grayson. He'll be staying at the manor with us for a while," she said, ushering Dick into the waiting back seat of the car.

'Alfred'. Like in one of mom's dumb PBS shows. Was he a butler, too? Or a chauffeur? 

But she said 'us'. Rich people didn't do that, did they? 

"Good, Miss Wayne. Master Grayson, I do hope you have a love of sweets, as I seem to have been on a recent hunt for the perfect cookie," Alfred told him before shutting the door and going to the driver's side.

"Alfred is wonderful," Ashlea told the boy. "He'll help you while you stay with us, like he helps me. He got me through… when it was my parents," she told him softly. "I know our worlds are very different, Dick, but I promise this will be better than if Jim Gordon had gotten Social Services directly involved."

Dick shuddered at those words, the mention of 'Social Services' more than a little frightening, and wrapped his arms around his ribs, tucking back against the doorframe. "I -- yeah, nothing good ever comes from them. And I guess I couldn't just stay there... too many people. So, um... thank you?" 

"Don't…" Ashlea told him, shaking her head. "I do not want you to see this as a debt. I owe this to others, to help someone who was hurt like me, when people helped me then." She looked out the window, lost in the clash of then and now.

"What Miss Ashlea means, Master Grayson, is that your presence in our home is a blessing," Alfred called back to them, knowing his ward was shaken by this day's events.

Dick frowned at her, confused for a few long moments before he remembered the way Dad would always offer another carnie a hand up, a quick loan, never asking for it back, and the song Ma loved to hear, the poor mechanic and the rich lady and the waitress that was the man's wife... Then he nodded. It was hard to imagine something like Ma and Dad happening to a rich family, to people that would always have had plenty... but this morning he couldn't have imagined that he wouldn't be going right on with Dad and Ma and Pop off to the next town on the tour, either. "Okay."


End file.
